serenely as if it walked on solid earth. Only at the last minute did Olivia see its goal: Chloe, still wearing her blue nightgown, her blond hair in two ponytails caught up by elastic bands at either ear, leaning over the railing at the far end of the upstairs gallery, something cupped in her hands. As Olivia watched, the child let go.
The object plummeted downward, glittering brilliantly in the sun as it fell, and landed in the sweet bush below with no more than a faint disturbance to the leaves.
Chloe straightened and saw Olivia at the same moment that Olivia glanced up at her again. Olivia was too surprised to call to the child, or even to wave, and Chloe did not speak, either. Shooting Olivia a baleful glance, Chloe snatched up the cat that had by now almost reached her, disappeared into the shadowy depths of the gallery and from there, presumably, into the house.
Curiosity piqued, Olivia moved to the sweet bush and peered in and beneath it. The delicate vanillalike aroma that gave the bush its name wafted around her. Its fragile white flowers and umbrella-shaped foliage concealed an inner hollow that, Olivia remembered from her own childhood, was an ideal hideaway. Stooping, pushing aside the fragrant canopy, and keeping a wary eye out for the bees and wasps that liked to drink from the blossoms, she ducked beneath the leaves and looked around. Almost instantly she spotted it: a bracelet. It dangled from a branch just a few inches off the ground.
That was what Chloe had dropped from the gallery. Olivia’s earlier perception of an object that glittered like fire in the sun resolved itself into this sparkling piece of jewelry. Disentangling the bracelet carefully, Olivia ducked out into the sunlight again, prize in hand. Straightening, she looked at it as it lay across her palm.
It was a watch, not a bracelet. A delicate woman’s watch, with a braceletlike band made of linked diamonds, and a face encrusted with them. The numerals were indicated by tiny rubies. Olivia turned it over in her hand, wondering where Chloe had found something so obviously expensive, and why on earth she had chosen to drop it into a bush.
Made of platinum or white gold, the casing of the watch face felt cool and smooth beneath Olivia’s fingers as she smoothed them over its hexagon shape.
There was engraving on the back in delicate script. Olivia had to hold the watch closer to her eyes and tilt it into the sun so that she could read what was written there: Mallory Hodges .
CHAPTER 13
FROWNING, OLIVIA TUCKED THE WATCH INTO the front pocket of her cutoffs and continued on her way, pondering what to do. Obviously the watch had to be returned to its owner, but her every instinct shrank from describing the circumstances that had led her to discover it. Whether Chloe was difficult or not—and from every indication that was the only word to describe her—the child was just a child, after all, and was having a rough time.
Perhaps she could simply say that she had found it on the lawn?
Olivia walked along the pea-gravel path that led to the garçonnière, the small, two-story frame lodge at the edge of the property that had once housed the single, young adult males of the family, and, more recently, was used as a guest house. She paused at the perennial garden, stepping through the trellised archway that served as a garden gate, and spent a moment admiring the beauty within. The white bells of the yucca that had been trained to grow over the arch and around the fence served as a perfect frame for the profusion of colorful flowers that bloomed with abandon around the garden’s centerpiece, a five-foot-tall marble angel that looked as if it had been lifted, at some time in the distant past, from one of New Orleans’ raised cemeteries, or cities of the dead.
Butterflies floated over the garden, looking like fluttering blossoms themselves, and a pair of glossy-winged blackbirds perched on the edge of the fence, watching a third peck at the
The object plummeted downward, glittering brilliantly in the sun as it fell, and landed in the sweet bush below with no more than a faint disturbance to the leaves.
Chloe straightened and saw Olivia at the same moment that Olivia glanced up at her again. Olivia was too surprised to call to the child, or even to wave, and Chloe did not speak, either. Shooting Olivia a baleful glance, Chloe snatched up the cat that had by now almost reached her, disappeared into the shadowy depths of the gallery and from there, presumably, into the house.
Curiosity piqued, Olivia moved to the sweet bush and peered in and beneath it. The delicate vanillalike aroma that gave the bush its name wafted around her. Its fragile white flowers and umbrella-shaped foliage concealed an inner hollow that, Olivia remembered from her own childhood, was an ideal hideaway. Stooping, pushing aside the fragrant canopy, and keeping a wary eye out for the bees and wasps that liked to drink from the blossoms, she ducked beneath the leaves and looked around. Almost instantly she spotted it: a bracelet. It dangled from a branch just a few inches off the ground.
That was what Chloe had dropped from the gallery. Olivia’s earlier perception of an object that glittered like fire in the sun resolved itself into this sparkling piece of jewelry. Disentangling the bracelet carefully, Olivia ducked out into the sunlight again, prize in hand. Straightening, she looked at it as it lay across her palm.
It was a watch, not a bracelet. A delicate woman’s watch, with a braceletlike band made of linked diamonds, and a face encrusted with them. The numerals were indicated by tiny rubies. Olivia turned it over in her hand, wondering where Chloe had found something so obviously expensive, and why on earth she had chosen to drop it into a bush.
Made of platinum or white gold, the casing of the watch face felt cool and smooth beneath Olivia’s fingers as she smoothed them over its hexagon shape.
There was engraving on the back in delicate script. Olivia had to hold the watch closer to her eyes and tilt it into the sun so that she could read what was written there: Mallory Hodges .
CHAPTER 13
FROWNING, OLIVIA TUCKED THE WATCH INTO the front pocket of her cutoffs and continued on her way, pondering what to do. Obviously the watch had to be returned to its owner, but her every instinct shrank from describing the circumstances that had led her to discover it. Whether Chloe was difficult or not—and from every indication that was the only word to describe her—the child was just a child, after all, and was having a rough time.
Perhaps she could simply say that she had found it on the lawn?
Olivia walked along the pea-gravel path that led to the garçonnière, the small, two-story frame lodge at the edge of the property that had once housed the single, young adult males of the family, and, more recently, was used as a guest house. She paused at the perennial garden, stepping through the trellised archway that served as a garden gate, and spent a moment admiring the beauty within. The white bells of the yucca that had been trained to grow over the arch and around the fence served as a perfect frame for the profusion of colorful flowers that bloomed with abandon around the garden’s centerpiece, a five-foot-tall marble angel that looked as if it had been lifted, at some time in the distant past, from one of New Orleans’ raised cemeteries, or cities of the dead.
Butterflies floated over the garden, looking like fluttering blossoms themselves, and a pair of glossy-winged blackbirds perched on the edge of the fence, watching a third peck at the
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